


Crackship Collection

by Azumarocket



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Anime)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Conversations, Crack, F/F, F/M, First Dates, Introspection, Kissing, Light Angst, M/M, One Night Stands, Oral Sex, Platonic Relationships, Rival Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Team Rocket - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-17
Updated: 2018-09-03
Packaged: 2019-03-05 22:21:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13397475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azumarocket/pseuds/Azumarocket
Summary: A compilation of ficlets, based on crackships involving one or more members of Team Rocket.All pairings were sent to me as suggestions!(Tags do not apply to all chapters; check the opening notes if you want more info on each story!)





	1. A Scandal in Purple (Harley x James)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MadiYasha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadiYasha/gifts), [tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land](https://archiveofourown.org/users/tiniest_hands_in_all_the_land/gifts), [kaorikun](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaorikun/gifts).



> So. Smut.  
> I WROTE SMUT  
> It's needless to say I have no clue what I'm doing, but hey, here it is.  
> (I'm aware that this is starting things off with a hell of a bang, so I just wanna throw out there that not all the chapters will be this raunchy! So don't be too scared off ;) )

Whatever part of him had thought this was a good idea, James swore never to listen to it again.

Even here, outside of the club in its side alley, the music still managed to reverberate through the air. It was relentless- low, tuneless bass loud enough to pulse in his chest like a second heartbeat.

He'd been in good spirits when he'd entered the building, but the rush of a possible romantic encounter had quickly been knocked aside by the sheer volume and density of the crowd inside. Everyone else had seemed so at home, dancing in such close quarters, shouting their conversations over the music. James had felt like a total outsider.

So, figuring he might as well cut his losses before he felt any worse, he'd slipped back out onto the street, hugging his jacket. Now it was just a case of waiting for a bus, or a taxi, or something. Whatever got him back to their base the fastest.

"How much you charging?"

James jumped, his back grating a little against the wall he leant on as he turned his head. The voice was teasing, smooth- and uncomfortably familiar.

Sauntering up to him was a slim man, and it only took one glance at his draping purple hair to confirm his identity.

Oh. _Him._

Harley stopped a few feet away. "Well? How much?" he pressed.

"What are you talking about?" James asked, frowning. This guy played games, and he knew it.

A look of mock sympathy on his face, Harley answered: "Oh honey, you look like a prostitute." James balked.

"I- I do _not!_ " he protested as heat rose to his cheeks.

Harley scoffed. "Please. A twink in skinny jeans and combat boots, loitering at the front of an alley? All that's missing is you spinning a sign that says 'soliciting' up in the air."

"I'll have you know that my taste in fashion is impeccable!" James retaliated, praying that the mortification he felt wasn't making its way into his tone. It was a good thing he hadn't let Jessie and Meowth dictate his outfit- if they'd had their way, he'd be standing there in a sequinned tank top and mini shorts. He'd tried to explain to them that going to a gay club did not mandate looking as gay as humanly possible.

"I didn't say you don't look _good,_ " Harley said, smirking. "I just said you look like a hooker."

James blushed again, but this time it wasn't just his embarrasment that spurred the reaction: the flattery played a part, too. 

Why was that? Why did the other man's offhand comment- one that barely constituted a compliment, anyway- please him in that way?

"So, what are you doing skulking out here, then?" Harley went on, his raised eyebrow accentuating his curiousity. "I saw you back in the club, and then out of nowhere you beeline for the exit."

"I..." James hesitated as he weighed up how much to disclose. "I just wanted to have some fun, meet a few people. But... It wasn't my scene."

"Hm." Harley regarded him for a few moments, and then pursed his lips, coquettish. "Well, if you're looking for fun... We can have it right now."

For a moment, James was too stunned to respond. Was he serious? Was he really hitting on him?

"W-What-" he stammered, then cleared his throat, flustered. "Are you trying to trick me or something?"

"Don't flatter yourself- I wouldn't waste my time on that," Harley replied. "I just figure that if we both want a little action, well, why not act on it?"

 _A little action._ The words sent James' head reeling with excitement and nerves- the offer was so sudden, so blunt. And undeniably tempting.

Harley strolled past him, heading further down the alleyway. "Your choice- James, is it? I'm not going to lose any sleep if you walk away, so don't worry on my account."

The Rocket stared at his back. His thoughts were a jumble of conflict; would he be able to live it down if his team mates found out? And on the other side of the argument, if he walked off now, would he be able to shake off the regret? 

It was out of the blue, inexplicable, but he wanted to be intimate with this man- this obnoxious, conniving man. Thinking about touching him, the desire spread to James' groin in the first flutter of arousal.

So, against every better judgement he had, he followed him. 

Harley stopped behind the cover of a dumpster, and turned, grinning. He reached a hand up to the lapel of James' jacket, tracing the denim.

"You're lucky you're pretty," Harley told him, his face close enough for his breath to warm James' skin. Then he closed the gap, and opened his lips to meet James'.

The kiss was relatively gentle at first as they both tested the waters; James felt his heart punching a quick rhythm as Harley's lips pulled at his, the faint taste of flavoured lip gloss on his mouth. With the initial courtesies decidedly out of the way, Harley added his tongue to the mix, then moved his head to bite down gently on James' neck. He was pleased to draw a whimper from the Rocket as he nibbled and sucked at his skin.

A few seconds later, he withdrew, and they both caught their breath.

Upon opening his eyes again, James had been met with Harley's expression of faint triumph, something which both turned him on and sparked the rise of a new desire. He wanted to turn the table- make _him_ the one craving more.

He readied himself, preparing to play the character of someone with both more confidence and experience than he could claim, and glanced to Harley's crotch.

"Do you want to...?"

James let the question trail off, hoping he sounded more alluring than he felt. Harley let out a short laugh.

"You're quite the hussy, aren't you?" he said, and James worried that that was the end of the encounter, that he'd screwed up the moment- until Harley rolled his eyes, and added: "Come on then, get on with it!"

James studied the man, admiring for the first time the little details of him; the silkiness of his hair, soft around his face; the rounded tip of his nose; his pale blue eyes, overflowing with superiority. Ever eager to please, James obliged, sinking to his knees on the concrete.

He reached forwards to unzip Harley's trousers, looking up for permission a final time before easing his fingers under the waist of his boxers. When his touch found the hard shape of Harley's cock, the thrill of anticipation flared up again. He was really doing this, and it felt _incredible._

After slipping the briefs a few inches down Harley's hips, James moved his head forward and ran his tongue down the length of the exposed erection. He flicked his eyes up, delighted to see the other man closing his eyes in pleasure.

"Oh you little _tease,_ " Harley mumbled, groaning as James closed his lips around the head of his penis. He ran his fingers through the kneeling man's hair, and then gripped it, pulling him closer.

Now it was James' turn to feel victorious: Harley was _desperate_ for him, already unable to stifle his moans. Between his own motions and those of the hand holding onto his hair, he eased into a steady rhythm, amazed at the reaction he was causing. The ground was cold and hard beneath his knees, but he couldn't have cared less. 

Harley's back shifting against the bricks, he gasped, tipping his neck back to the sky. He could feel the pressure building, intense and wonderful and-

James realised that he was close, felt it in the man's shudders. He bobbed his head back and forth a few more times, and then pulled away. The last thing he wanted was to grant Harley the satisfaction of coming all over his face- that would tip the scales of power back the wrong way.

Too caught up in it all to protest, Harley merely removed his hand from James' scalp to grasp his cock, and finished the job himself with a breathy moan.

James stood, admiring the aftermath of his work with a satisfaction he hadn't been expecting. He watched as Harley recovered, his breathing still heavy as he pulled his boxers up again and zipped up his fly.

"Well, at least your mouth's good for _something,_ " he remarked, smirk back in place.

As he finished readjusting his clothing, he reached into his pocket, and pressed something into James' palm. James looked down to see money in his hand.

"Wha- Hey, no!" he exclaimed as Harley started to walk away. "I told you, I'm not-"

_Wait._

He looked down at the note again.

" _Five dollars?!_ I'm not that cheap!"

"You didn't even finish me off," Harley retorted calmly. "I deducted for that."

"Hey, wait-" James jogged after him, holding out the cash. "I don't even _want_ this!"

Harley paused, and turned his head to look at him. A devious smile spread over his lips.

"You should take it," he told James. "It's probably the most criminal thing you'll ever get away with."


	2. Beneath The Surface (Mimikyu x Meowth)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 1 leave you feeling the need to be blessed in holy waters? WELL DO I HAVE THE REMEDY FOR YOU  
> So yeah, this one is much more SFW, and less... chapter 1. COUGH.  
> I hope you enjoy!

As a rule, water was an abhorrent nuisance. It dampened the mood, both figuratively and literally- everything it touched was worse off for having met with it. There was one exception: hot springs.

His fur slightly puffed from the steam that misted the air, Meowth sank further back against the rock's smoothed surface, letting out a crossbreed of a purr and a sigh.

This was the life.

And yet he could feel that nagging feeling of something wrong, like some evil presence was creeping up on him-

"All right- ready, Mimikyu?"

He snapped his eyes open and turned to see Jessie, wrapped in a towel, holding the offending pokemon. She bent down to place it in the water next to Meowth.

 _"Jessie!"_ he hissed, flailing his arms in an effort to scoot away. "What are ya doin?! Do ya remember da last time we let dat thing loose swimmin'?!"

"Oh, let it have its fun! And relax," Jessie replied as Mimikyu bobbed on the surface, its fake head lolling sideways. "We had a little talk, and Mimikyu agreed to play nice- isn't that right?"

_"Kk-kk-kkk..."_

"You don't even speak Pokemon, how do ya- HEY!"

Jessie was already walking off to the neighbouring spring where James was, ignoring the cat's shout completely.

Meowth scowled at her back, but his annoyance soon crumbled at a fresh bout of awareness of his situation, and newfound companion.

_"Kkkk..."_

"Yeah, you keep well back, bub!" Meowth ordered, trying to be assertive but already hearing the tremor in his voice. "An' keep dat cloth on while you're at it!"

Seemingly paying to attention to him at all, Mimikyu started to sink under the surface, a strange dive that lacked momentum. Meowth braced himself to look away as the disguise came off, but it stuck to the pokemon's body as it went under.

Maybe it _had_ been listening. But how was it keeping the material attached to it, anyway? Was it using its arms- did it even _have_ arms?

Meowth shuddered. He didn't really want to think about that.

For a few minutes, he tried to ease back into his previous tranquility, but couldn't help but keep an eye trained on Mimikyu as it reappeared and sank again and again, each time popping up somewhere different.

"Okay okay- enough already!" Meowth called over to it when he couldn't take the nerves any more. "Just sit still where I can see ya, dig?"

Its head flopped to look at him, and he grimaced when he realised it meant to move towards him. In that strange, almost limping movement, it crossed the water to the rock's edge, and settled down next to Meowth.

"Yeah- fine, whatever. Just don't try to murder me again. Deal?"

_"Kkkwon'tkk..."_

He wasn't sure if it was because Mimikyu was a ghost pokemon, or just because of the way it hissed, but Meowth had found it consistently harder to understand what it was saying. Sometimes he was convinced the thing just made a bunch of nonsensical growls, just to mess with him.

Regardless, a little of that weight of pressure lifted off him, and Meowth stretched his paws out in the blissful heat.

"Ahh... I tell ya, we need dis after all dat twoip chasin'. Dat Pikachu is _impossible_ ta-"

_"KKKKKKKK."_

Jumping at the noise, Meowth braved a glance to Mimikyu; it was trembling with quiet rage, sending ripples across the skin of the water.

"Oh- sorry, sorry!" he apologised, hasty to right his wrong. "I forgot how ya... I just let it slip. Sorry."

It would have been a different story if the electric mouse was actually in sight, but with no further stimuli to fuel its rage, Mimikyu's demeanour faded back to calm within a few seconds.

"Hey..." Meowth hesitated, not sure whether it was a good idea to voice what he wanted to ask. "Um... Why do you hate Pik- dat pokemon so much? I know ya touched on it, but..."

A pause of dreadful silence.

"I ain't gonna blab to no one, promise! I'm just wonderin' why it bothers ya is all."

Meowth tensed, readied for some awful retaliation. But all he got was an answer, tentative and soft.

_"Kkklookkk...better..."_

"Huh?" Realising what it meant, Meowth frowned. "Really? Dat's what's eatin' at ya?"

He supposed he could relate to that jealousy, at least somewhat. Meowths were generally only regarded as cute pokemon when they were still kittens, small enough to still be a novelty. And there was no doubt that since he had adopted the practice of walking on two legs, any remnant traces of his 'cuteness' had been wiped away in the eyes of just about every human he'd encountered.

Not that he valued his physical appearance in particularly high stead- it was his brains that Meowth cherished. That was what set him apart from the crowd. But, nevertheless, there was something endlessly frustrating about seeing Pikachu bounce around whatever place he happened to be visiting, all smiles and sickening squeaks as onlookers admired him. It was so obvious he'd never known the pain of being seen as little more than an ugly freak.

"Well... I get where you're comin' from," Meowth started, picking his words carefully. "I gotta admit, Pikachu is pretty... Pretty. I'm his sworn enemy an' even I t'ink he's cute!"

Unsettled by the lack of movement from Mimikyu, Meowth quickly went on: "But ta say he looks better dan you... I don't t'ink that's right at all! I mean, look at your outfit, for one. Dat shows ya got skill, an it ain't over da top sugary sweet, but it's still got dat cutesy charm to it." He was going to gesture to Mimikyu's drawn-on face, but stopped in his tracks as he caught sight on the melting lines of ink, finally paying the price of the wet and humidity. Maybe right now wasn't the best example of the pokemon's aesthetic. But it did spark another line of thought.

"Plus ya got somet'in' Pikachu ain't never gonna have- ya can be scary when ya want! Dat's da best of both worlds if ya ask me."

There was no notable reaction. Meowth wasn't sure what he'd been expecting; the pokemon was cloaked with a layer of fabric, after all. That didn't give much room for theatrical expression.

Mimikyu stared ahead, vacant as ever.

_"Kkkk...You..."_

Meowth waited for elaboration, and when he got none, pressed: "Me? Me what?"

But Mimikyu was already wandering away, its head swaying as it moved across the spring once more.

_"Guess dat's da end of dat."_

Curiousity lingered, however much he tried to write it off. What was it that Mimikyu had been trying to say?

He was interrupted from his musing by the sound of splashing, followed by James' giggling squeal.

"Jessie! Jessie, you're going to ruin my hair!"

"What, more than it already is?" returned her teasing voice, and she swept another wave into his face.

Meowth glowered at the both of them- _idiots_ \- but he couldn't keep the grin from his expression.

"Hey, keep it down youse two! Do you _want_ ta wake up da owner?!"


	3. Mutual Interest (Jessie x Delia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm having so much fun writing these! I hope this isn't too horribly predictable :s 
> 
> That said, I feel good about it! This pairing is one that I've been dying to create something for for the longest time, and I'm so glad I finally got round to doing it :D
> 
> Oh, and nothing explicit in this one!

Sand kicked up with every step Jessie took, caving in under her sandals, moving like liquid.

The beach wasn't empty, but it wasn't crowded either, with most of the tourists having retired to their hotels or neighbouring restaurants as the sinking sun began to stain the sky with the orange glow of evening.

Their own motivation for being there had originally been to scout out the area for both pokemon and any unattended wallets, but that had quickly given way to the much more tempting idea of merely lazing on the shore and soaking in the warmth. Meowth had altenated between taking cat naps and pouncing at any wingull that landed in his vicinity, whilst James spent most of his time digging up sand dollars, letting them crumble in his hands with childlike fascination. It didn't take much to entertain him.

And for the most part, Jessie had been happy to sit between the two and lose herself in the gentle hiss of the rolling waves, but restlessness had eventually crept in, and she'd announced to the others that she was taking a walk. She was glad for the chance of peace, for a while alone with her thoughts. In her profession, that was an all too rare opportunity.

She eventually settled down on the sand when her legs got tired- she sat far enough from the ocean so that the ground beneath her wasn't damp, but close enough that the wind carried the salt-tinged mist her way. It brushed over her skin, a welcome change from the heat.

"The weather is wonderful out here, isn't it?"

Jessie wasn't surprised at the voice itself- this was a public beach, after all- but the realisation that it was directed at her caught her off-guard. Behind her was the silhouette of a woman, twisting the base of an umbrella into the sand nearby.

Turning back to the sea, Jessie shrugged her shoulders.

"It's all right. You get used to it pretty quickly."

"I'm not sure I would! It's just so... _beautiful."_

That voice- Jessie was sure of it now, hearing it again. She'd heard it before, but she couldn't place where for the life of her. She regarded the woman again, paying more attention this time, and felt herself tense.

Chocolate hair caught in the rhythm of the breeze, eyes full of the evening's warmth, light pink lipstick framing her gentle smile.

The twerp's _mother._

What was she doing in Alola? Vacationing, Jessie supposed- it wasn't a stretch to conclude she was out here on twerp visiting business.

She weighed up her options. The obvious choice was to leave, mumble a goodbye and get the hell out of dodge before she was recognised. But there was something about that thought, just striding off and leaving this woman alone after she'd reached out in conversation, that filled her with a quiet sadness.

Well, if she needed a reason to stay, there was a prevalent one: to gather intel on the twerps. This could be a part of their grander mission, after all! Jumping the gun by hightailing it now would be foolish. Besides, she doubted Delia would see through her disguise. It was top notch, as always, and it was a rare occurance for someone to see past it. Most people could only recognise her by the proud scarlet 'R' on her chest.

With this in mind, she stayed where she was. "It's pretty, I'll give you that," she said.

"Are you a local, then?" Mother Twerp asked, laying a jigglypuff patterned towel out next to Jessie's spot. What was her name? Debra? Delila?

 _Delia_. That was it.

"No, but I've been here for a few months now," Jessie replied, figuring the closer she stuck to the truth, the less likely she was to trip over a lie. "What about you? You a tourist?"

Delia sat down, propping herself up on one arm whilst the other got to work unbuckling her shoes. "I suppose I am," she answered. "I'm here checking in on my son, mainly. I tell you, there aren't enough eyes to look out for your child when there's just one of you!"

Her expression fell at the end of her sentence; Delia looked almost embarrassed, as if she was worried she'd said too much. Jessie was not in the least judgemental, but a little taken aback by what she'd revealed. She'd always assumed that the twerp came from the most nuclear family imaginable, even if she'd never actually seen a Mr. Ketchum. He had it all, surely? Father included.

Apparently not.

Another thing that was dawning on her was just how young Delia was. Up close, the wrinkles Jessie had always pictured dissolved to a smoother reality: skin clear enough to rival her own. She couldn't be more than, what, a few years older than Jessie was? That was odd to consider. Their lives were branching in such wildly different directions, and a shared age group only made that rift more apparent.

Delia shifted as she discarded her sandals beside her, and Jessie spoke almost without thinking:

"Weird that you're single, being as cute as you are."

Where had _that_ come from? That was a line straight out of a bad romance, spewed by some dreary man that everyone insisted was handsome. But Jessie didn't disagree with the message behind it- hell, Delia _was_ cute. That was just factual.

Delia giggled, a sound that Jessie was reluctant to admit sent butterflies to her stomach.

"I'm serious!" Jessie told her, a grin making its way to her own face. "You could pick up anybody here you wanted to."

"You're very sweet," Delia laughed, and Jessie felt a mixture of reactions: the humour of irony at this woman calling her, _her,_ sweet, and the buzz as the remark reached her core. _Like a blushing schoolgirl,_ she scolded herself internally, but didn't have the capacity to harden her demeanour. Her mind was elsewhere.

She was leaning forwards before she was aware of it, and caught herself, halting as she stared into Delia's eyes, wondering how in the world she'd managed to mess things up so spectacularly. Delia looked back, equally attentive, just as searching. Her hazel eyes were full of questions, and something else that Jessie couldn't pinpoint.

Arms hooked around the back of her neck before she could analyze any further, and there were lips pressed to hers, opening to softly kiss her. Jessie melted into the embrace, no longer caring about shoulds and should nots. As they moved their faces, their cheeks brushed, and Jessie felt herself shiver at the sensation. Her skin, so warm and smooth against hers, the sensation of her lips-

Delia broke away, and Jessie, worried that she'd be upset, was surprised to hear the sound of her chuckling.

"What... What are we doing?" Delia asked through her smile, shaking her head a little.

Jessie pursed her lips in a mock simper. "We're young, aren't we?" she responded. "A fling on the beach is a rite of passage."


	4. The Green Blues (James x Gardenia)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing NSFW here! In fact, it's probably TOO platonic, but I just wrote what came to me and felt like a natural exchange between the two. There are some hints in there that you can read into as deeply as you want, however ;)  
> Some angst ahead, but nothing terrible!

To some people, it might have been a chore, but Gardenia couldn't fathom how. Everything from the subtle scents of the flowers that sweetened the air to the deep greens of the shrubbery was just so _beautiful._ If it would do more good than harm, she would happily spend all day watering the grounds.

It having been the heart of summer, the sun had taken its throne in the sky, unfazed by the flimsy clouds that dared cross its path. The warmth it cast upon the earth was evident not only in the heat, but in the colours it brought out. Even the dullest greys absorbed its glow.

She set the watering can down, taking a moment to just look, take it all in. It was then that she spotted the person walking down the slope of the hill in her direction.

They appeared to be a young man, wearing a black t-shirt and matching boots that overlapped white trousers. His countenance was flat beneath a pair of sunglasses.

"Are you here to challenge this gym?" Gardenia asked when he was close enough to hear her. "Because I warn you now, my pokemon will put up quite the battle!"

Without meaning to, she found herself clenching her fist. It had been a while since her last opponent, and the longing for action was surfacing.

"Er, no, I..." The man sighed, and removed his sunglasses.

Gardenia blinked.

"James?!"

She was a little embarrassed that she hadn't clocked his identity sooner- if the clothing wasn't enough of an indicator, that violet hair certainly was. In her defence, she'd had no signature red 'R' to go by, but even so...

James raised a hand to rub at the back of his neck. "Hello," he mumbled.

"What are you doing here? Oh, it's been such a long time since-" Gardenia stopped mid-sentence, and grinned at him. "You want to see Cacnea! That's why you came, isn't it? I can go and get him for you, he's training with the others inside- oh, he'll be _thrilled!"_

She'd been expecting equal enthusiasm on his side, but all she got was an uncomfortable expression she couldn't quite place. It looked sort of like a grimace- a flinch, even.

"I... No. I mean, of course I _want_ to see him, but- but I don't think it's a good idea," James said. He wouldn't quite meet her gaze.

"Why not?" she pried. "You mean a great deal to him, you know that, right? I bet he'd be overjoyed to see you again!"

"That's not it- I just..." James shifted, wringing his hands together. "He's been here for months now, and I bet he's doing really well with you," he said with a rather poor attempt at a smile. "If I suddenly come waltzing back, it might throw all that off track. The last thing I want to do is disorientate him."

Seeing the hurt on his face, she decided not to be too argumentative right off the bat, instead asking: "So why did you come here?"

His smile looked a little more real now. "Oh, I just wanted to see how he was doing and check that he's all right." He threw up his hands all of a sudden, looking anxious. "N-Not that I doubted your care!"

Gardenia chuckled. She knew that he was, by profession, a criminal, but it was hard to see him as a threat.

"Don't worry- I hear you!" she reassured him. "If I'd entrusted my pokemon with someone else, of course I'd want to check in on them!"

James relaxed again, less stiff as he dropped his arms back to his sides. Then, after a few seconds:

"Um... So, how _is_ he doing?"

"Well, if anybody asked me for a pokemon success story, I'd tell them about Cacnea," Gardenia started, familiar pride swelling within. "You wouldn't believe how far he's come- Drain Punch is the very least of it! We've worked on stance, tactics- even his speed has improved! And he's getting on so well with the other pokemon- grass-types are friendly like that, aren't they?" She took a breath and smiled widely. "It's better than I could have hoped for."

Amidst the joy of hearing that his former companion was more than okay, but flourishing under a new wing, the bitter sting of pain made itself known.

_Look at what she's doing for him that you never could._

It wasn't just the matter of his abilities as a trainer, though that did play a part in his insecurity. James knew that he wasn't the worst trainer out there, not by a long shot, but he certainly wasn't among the best. The friendship was there- that at least he could tally as a strength- but the knack at battling was sporadic at best. He didn't have that instinct for coordination, nor did he possess the ability to come up with tactics on the spot. Give him a few hours and some blueprints and it was a whole other story, but that didn't apply to battling, not usually.

Despite all those flaws, he could find reason to brush them aside. Not everyone was a born battler, after all- if he had to work harder at it, so be it. But what ate at him was the reality of his circumstance. He was a Team Rocket member.

However much his pokemon insisted that they were happy with him, he couldn't take that to heart. It was simply that they didn't know that a better life existed- and it did, that was certain. A life outside of crime and failure, constantly being on the run from one thing or another, and what was essentially romanticised homelessness. In someone else's hands, they'd be better off.

He couldn't give his pokemon what people like Gardenia could.

"Are you really still in Team Rocket?"

James hadn't been expecting her question, and took a couple of seconds to process it.

"Yes," he admitted. Normally he wore that label with pride, but right now it felt dirty.

Gardenia frowned, but it wasn't judgemental- more confused. "I never understood why you run with that crowd. You're too kind for that stuff, you know?"

"Thank you, but evidently, I'm not," James murmured, smiling a little. Even if his response said otherwise, an ounce of the weight had lifted at her words.

She laughed. "Okay, point. But you get what I'm saying, right? Bad guys don't part ways with their pokemon for the reason you did." Gardenia turned her chin towards the gym's building. "Cacnea is as sweet as anything, but he sure is odd. Like, I've lost count of the times I've found him rooting through the metal recycling. He's got this obsession with bottle caps- did you notice that when he was with you?"

The tremor in his breath matched the one in his chest as what she'd said hit him. To his resignment and Gardenia's surprise, tears collected under his eyelids almost instantly, spilling down his cheeks before he could raise his arm to catch them. They didn't feel sad. Not entirely.

As he sniffled, regaining a little composure, Gardenia regarded him carefully.

"Are you sure you don't want to see Cacnea?" she asked, her voice soft.

James exhaled, wiping the last of the wetness from his face.

"Yes, I'm sure," he said. "But... Maybe in the future. Sometime."

Maybe.

 


	5. Juice Shark (Jessie x Wendy)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> THIS IS A BIG GAY MESS BUT I HAD FUN WRITING IT SO IM HAPPY  
> Seriously though, this ship crept up on me so suddenly! I'm in love with this pairing and I could probably write a full length novel on their relationship aksnkaxncabcfkjg
> 
> This is totally SFW by the way! Nothing explicit apart for some swearing ;)
> 
> Enjoy!
> 
> (Pairing suggested by kianamaiart on tumblr!)

The first smoothie had been nothing more than a favour. Jessie was already crunching rogue berry seeds between her teeth when she realised she didn't have any cash- a passing "Hey, be a dear and cover that for me?" to the nearest person and she was on her way. She hadn't really noticed the woman picking up the tab.

That would soon remedy itself.

Every visit she paid to the cafeteria from that moment on, Jessie could feel eyes on her like cross-hairs. It was a strange feeling, given that she didn’t actually _see_ anyone watching her, but the weight of their gaze hung in the air like an aura.

Until one day it didn’t, and she forgot about the whole affair.

About a week had gone by without incident, and Jessie was riding the waves of exhaustion after a particularly brutal training drill. Viper just wouldn’t let up, and he’d only gotten tougher on her since partner number ten had dropped out of the program.

Whatever. She could take anything they threw at her.

The cafeteria was nearly empty- it was after dark, and most of the other agents had turned in for the night. After heaping her bowl full of ramen, Jessie took the nearest seat, and was about to take her first bite when she saw a figure at the edge of her peripheral.

An uneasiness settled in her stomach; something about that presence radiated danger. How long had they been standing there? She tracked her eyes sideways to get a better view, but whoever it was moved before she could focus on them. Jessie shrugged to herself, turned back to her bowl, and nearly jumped out of her skin.

Sitting right across the table was a woman who definitely had not been there before. Jessie waited for her heartbeat to slow, and then gave her a slight glare.

“Do you always creep up on people like that?” she growled, stabbing her chopsticks into the noodle mountain.

“I’d like a smoothie now, please.”

Jessie glanced up, eyebrow cocked.

“Uh…”

The woman pressed her palms against the table, and her eyes shone with an intensity that Jessie couldn’t quite place.

“Two weeks and one day ago, you asked me to pick up the tab for your smoothie,” the woman said. “It was banana and pecha berry, and cost three dollars eighty-five cents.”

“What a _story!_ Have you thought about a film adaptation?”

Now it was the woman’s turn to glower.

“You promised you’d pay me back,” she continued, “and since you never did, I’m forced to take a more direct approach. I’d like a smoothie, now, _please_.”

Jessie weighed up her options. This gal was clearly some piece of work, and it didn’t look like she was going to be able to shake her off. So, resigned, she pushed herself back to her feet.

“ _Fine_ ,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “One smoothie coming up.”

She grabbed the first drink she saw on the shelves, paid for it with a swipe of her card, and pushed it across the table to Wendy. Instantly, the woman’s face softened to make way for what looked to be a genuinely happy smile.

“Thank you!”

Jessie nodded, not looking up as she slurped up a large mouthful of lukewarm ramen- holy _hell_ was that good. When she paused to glance at her new acquaintance, she was already slamming down the empty bottle.

“Good?” Jessie said, mouth half-full.

Wendy nodded, wearing a look of almost serene satisfaction- her oddly-placed passion was undeniably endearing, if bizarre. Her expression broke with a flinch as she looked at the bottle’s label.

“Oh, no,” she mumbled.

“What?”

“It cost four dollars.”

Jessie rested her chin on her hand. “And what about it?”

“I owe you fifteen cents.”

Jessie stifled a cackle.

“You know what, don’t even worry about it,” she smirked. “Uh, call it a deposit for the two week waiting time.”

Wendy shook her head furiously, the green flicks of her hair bouncing against her cheeks. “No, no- I never leave a loan unpaid!” she exclaimed. “Hold on, I have change in my room- wait here, I’ll just go grab it and-”

“Hey,” Jessie cut in, grabbing the other Rocket’s arm as she rushed past. Wendy waited for her to elaborate, and Jessie took what time she had to muse on the proposal she was considering.

Pros: the girl was pretty. Her no-nonsense attitude was something Jessie could definitely get behind; how refreshing, to have someone who was as blunt as she was.

Cons: she might get murdered over a dollar.

_Fuck it._

“Tell you what,” Jessie began, “why don’t you take me out for a smoothie tomorrow instead? If you’re gonna worry about paying people back, you might as well have fun doing it.”

A frown flashed on Wendy’s face.

“Unless there’s something I can buy you for fifteen cents, that’ll just trap us in an endless loop of owing each other-”

“I’ll give you the rest in change at the end of the date,” Jessie offered. “How’s that?”

There was a long pause.

“Date.”

“That’s what I said.”

Wendy stared at her contemplatively, boring into her eyes until finally she shrugged her shoulders.

“Okay.”

* * *

The place Wendy had picked out was surprisingly normal. Jessie wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting- maybe a corporate office-style building that vended drinks out with cold efficiency. This place wasn’t anything like that. It was actually kind of cosy.

Her date was waiting for her on one of the leather sofas that ran along the cafe’s side wall, tapping her varnished nails against a laminated menu. Jessie strolled over, grinning.

“Hey,” she greeted, sliding her satchel from her shoulder and dumping it under the table before sitting down.

“Hey yourself.”

There were already two full glasses set on the table- apparently Wendy had ordered for them both. Jessie pulled the nearest glass towards her, and peered down at the contents.

“What we drinking?”

“Blitzin’ Berry Bonanza,” Wendy answered, without a trace of irony at the name. Jessie couldn’t stop a smile from spreading across her face, and Wendy added, defensive, “It’s what it’s called!” But there was no real upset to her voice; she was smiling too.

She cleaned up nice, Jessie thought as she ran her eye’s over her outfit. Back in Rocket HQ, for the most part, you only saw people in uniform, and half of them were sweaty and exhausted from training. It was easy to forget that they didn’t always look like that.

The sleek turquoise dress Wendy wore wasn’t particularly fancy, but it suited her wonderfully. Her makeup was the same as always: sharp eyeliner, ready to kill, a dab of rose lipstick, and nothing else.

She looked beautiful.

Of course, Jessie looked better. That was only natural- who could compete with her impeccable fashion sense and natural good looks?

It was tighter competition than usual, though.

She found the straw with the tip of her tongue, and took a short sip. Whatever it was, it was sweet and sharp, and she liked it enough to drink about a third of the glass in one go.

Coming up for air, she licked her lips, and rose her line of sight back to Wendy.

“So what’s your deal? At headquarters, I mean- are you a trainee too?”

The scoff she got in response was half-amused and half-offended.

“No way,” she said. “No, I finished all that crap a while ago. I just started in human resources.”

Jessie looked at her with disbelief.

“Human resources?” she parroted, jaw slack. “How do you _stand_ it? Isn’t that just listening to people whine at you all day?”

“Not exactly. Actually, it’s mostly recruiting new Rockets and making sure they do their job.”

“Hm. Sounds like a drag if you ask me.”

“It’s easy enough if you’ve got the right skills,” Wendy replied, mouth pulling into a self-assured smile. “I’m good at what I do because I can pretend to care one second and write a damning report the next.”

Jessie laughed shortly. “Cold.”

“Hey,” Wendy said, shrugging innocently, “it’s part of the job. Neither of us do what we do so we can be _nice_ to people.”

“You got me there.”

Silence fell, and the two women just looked at each other with mutual intrigue. They still knew next to nothing about the person across from them, but a barrier had been lifted. They’d had a glimpse into each other, something both normal and delightfully intimate.

Far beyond her expectations, Jessie liked what she saw.

She hadn’t really noticed drinking it, but at the next sip she took, what was left of her smoothie bubbled with a rippling slurp. Flicking the straw so it spun around the rim of the glass, she caught sight of a clock on the wall, and grimaced.

“Shit. Training starts in half an hour- I’d better get back.”

As she gathered up her things, Wendy gave an exaggerated cough.

“I believe there was a promise of some change?” she pointed out, and though Jessie could tell she wasn’t joking, her request carried less pointedness than it had done the day before.

“That’s no fun!” Jessie retorted. “No- I’ll just pick up the tab on our next date!”

“And trap us in that endless loop I mentioned?”

Jessie shot her a smirk, and pursed her lips, coquettish.

“I can think of worse things.”


	6. Pros and Cons (James x Butch)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nothing NSFW in this one except some swearing (as is the norm)! 
> 
> Oh my god this is so silly and turned out way longer than I'd planned but the setting gave me the excuse to flesh out the plot a little more  
> It's just such a fun trope to write, and I've only done so before in an angsty setting, so this was a nice change of pace! I hope you enjoy :D

The guards made their rounds every thirty minutes. Butch had documented that information not a full month ago, when he’d had a rare view of the hallway clock from his cell. His current accommodation didn’t afford that luxury. He was stuck counting cops instead of seconds.

Hour twelve of day fifteen was marked by Jenny’s brisk loop down the corridor. Three more hours until he got his evening meal; eating was about all there was to look forwards to, even if the food tasted like the discovery of salt was lost news on the cook.

He figured he’d nap until then, or at least lie down and daydream about somewhere nicer. His head was just hitting the thin slab of a mattress when he heard the hallway door open again.

Butch was a little taken aback, but didn’t move. Although it was way too soon for another check, there were plenty of reasons for the door to open before then. Maybe Jenny had forgotten something.

Curiosity got the better of him, and he sat up on the cot so he could see down the walkway. And in an instant, a cruel grin stretched his lips to his cheeks.

In almost any other situation he’d feel nothing but annoyance at the sight of James, but here, _here_ it was something to relish. There was an near euphoric satisfaction at seeing his foppish rival being dragged down the hall- about time too, to see how _he_ liked it.

Butch sauntered up to the bars, readying a taunting wave, running his tongue over his lips in preparation for a “Hey _John!_ ” But before he could launch his routine, the cop holding James’ arm slowed his pace to a stop, right outside Butch’s cell.

“Stand back,” the policeman ordered Butch as he fished a ring of keys from his belt; Butch gawked at the pair of them.

“What? No- No!” he spluttered. “I can’t be cellmates with _him!_ Stick him somewhere else!”

The cop looked up, bored. “It’s policy to house members of the same gang together when there’s overcrowding,” he said. “Sorry.”

Looking on in horror as the guard swung the door open, Butch grasped for an compelling argument. The one that came to mind was a little out there- but hey, time was short.

“He tried to stab me!” Butch accused; James blinked in a stupor.

“No I didn’t!”

“He did- he’s got it in for me, I’m telling you, I’ll be dead in a day.”

Wearily, the cop started to unlock James’ cuffs. “Well, if any stabbing arises, give us a shout,” he drawled, unconvinced. Then to James: “You. In.”

The lavender-haired Rocket complied without resistance, though didn’t break the glare he was shooting Butch’s way.

“Officer, he’s _clearly_ threatening me,” Butch said. The cop ignored him, merely locking the door and walking off, and Butch scowled at James. “Idiot! If you’d just played along he’d have taken you somewhere else!”

James frowned. “I didn’t particularly want to confess to attempted murder, _Botch._ ”

“You-!”

With the last strand of his patience ripped in two, Butch lunged at his new cellmate, outstretched hands finding the fabric of James’ shirt.

“It’s _Butch! BUTCH!”_ he screamed.

There was a groan of annoyance from one of the neighbouring prisoners, followed by a curt “Shut the fuck up!”.

He sighed, and let go of his grip on the other man; James staggered backwards, and smoothed out the fresh creases in his uniform.

“Now who’s threatening who?” James grumbled.

“But you _know_ that’s not my name- ugh, forget it,” Butch sighed. He returned to his worn spot on the lower bunk. “Hey, what did you screw up this time, anyway?” he asked, genuinely curious despite his mocking tone. “And where’re the other two?”

Worry crossed James’ face at the latter question. “I’m not sure,” he replied. “When we were running from the police, we split up- I hit a dead end, but I don’t know if they got away or not.”

“And? What _brilliant_ plan landed you on the run?”

“We…” James trailed off, regarding Butch carefully as if deducing whether or not it was a good idea to tell the truth. “Well, actually, we were in the middle of robbing the police station when-”

“Wait,” Butch interrupted, pure delight curling his lips in a smile as he sat up. “ _This_ police station?”

“Yes, but-”

Butch cracked up laughing loudly enough to drown out whatever else James was trying to say.

“Oh my god,” he breathed out between giggles, “you tried to- a _police station_ \- and then they lock you up in the same one!”

James’ brow creased with indignance.

“You’re here too, you know!” he snapped back. “I’m not the one who’s on first name terms with all the guards!”

“Yeah? That’s only ‘cause a certain team of traitors keep selling me and Cassidy out!” Butch retaliated. “The boss would have your heads if he knew half the times you’ve gone turncoat!”

Almost instantly, James paled.

“Y-You’re not going to tell him, are you?”

“That depends on how annoying you are for however long we’re stuck here.”

After that, James shut up.

* * *

For the first day, they didn’t talk much more at all, except to argue about who got the convenience of the bottom bunk, and to agree on a no-looking toilet policy.

When James awoke the next morning, Butch was already up, jiggling his leg nervously with his head resting in his hands. They both looked up at the sound of approaching footsteps: a guard with two trays of food. Instantly, Butch rushed to the bars.

“Has there been any update on my bail?” he asked, a little desperately, as the officer passed the trays through the hatch. The woman shook her head.

“Still no response from your contact,” she confirmed. “You can request another meeting with your lawyer though.”

Butch waited for her to leave before kicking the wall.

_“Fuck.”_

So far, James had been holding his tongue under the threat of Butch blabbing to Giovanni, but he couldn’t resist getting a jab in.

“I thought the boss always posts your bail in person,” he noted, smirking.

“Shut up.”

There was none of the usual cutting edge to Butch’s remark- he just muttered it and rested his head in his hands. Guilt swamped James immediately.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, tentative. Butch paused a while before speaking.

“This is the longest Giovanni’s ever left us to stew,” he mumbled. “He used to spring us from jail after a day, two tops- it’s been over two _weeks_ now.” He looked out from under his fringe, meeting James with tired eyes. “I think this time might have been the last straw.”

James scoffed lightly.

“I would doubt that, considering you and Cassidy are his clear favourites,” he said, then stroked his chin, pondering something. “Though we could always break out.”

Butch looked thoroughly unimpressed.

“How the hell would we do that?”

James crossed his arms proudly. “Jessie and I have done it countless times! You see, we use multi-piece shovels- that way you can sneak them in.”

Butch wasn’t sure which bit of missing logic to attack first; how on earth they’d just happen to be carrying shovels was the main point of question. He decided to humor him.

“Do you have one now?”

James’ face fell.

“No.”

The realisation was amusing enough to draw a small smile out of Butch, but his expression broke to a more thoughtful one as inspiration took hold.

“Hold up. I have an idea.”

* * *

The patrolling guard was bored. Walking in an endless loop around the building wasn’t exactly stimulating, and there were too many hours between him and his next coffee break. He was daydreaming about heaping sugar and cream into his future drink when a scream broke the monotony.

“HELP!”

He was running before he’d fully processed the turn of events, acting on sheer instinct- he cleared quick ground and reached the source of the yell in seconds.

Through the bars of the cell before him, the Rocket he’d booked just the day before leaned over his unmoving cellmate, hands clasped around his neck. The officer cursed and brandished his taser.

“Get against the wall right now!”

Face against the less-than-pristine cell floor, Butch was having some regrets about his proposal to play the victim. He’d thought it apt, considering his accusations yesterday, but his role as corpse was proving unglamorous.

It didn’t help that James was living it up.

“I told him I’d do it!” James rambled, pointing an accusing finger at the his supposedly deceased enemy. “You all underestimated me but now look!” He laughed maniacally, and if Butch wasn’t trying to convince the guard he was dead, he would have told James to rein it in a little.

“I said against the wall! Don’t make me use force!”

A second officer was on the scene by now, backing up his colleague as he twisted the key in the door’s lock. One guard went for James whilst the other made to check on Butch.

As soon as they were both inside, Butch sprang up with all the force he could muster and grabbed for the cop’s taser; in a state of shock, the man’s defense was lacking, and Butch managed to wrestle it from his grip before driving the prongs into his chest.

James wasn’t having as much success on his end, bundled against the bricks by the guard he was supposed to be subduing, so Butch crossed over to help him. One shock from the taser brought the second officer to his knees, and both Rockets scrambled into the hall, Butch slamming the door shut behind them.

“Did you get the keys?” Butch asked hurriedly, and James responded with a quick nod, brandishing the ring. Without further discussion they sprinted down the corridor, reaching the door at the end just as a pulsing alarm began to sound.

“Unlock it!” Butch babbled as James fumbled with the keys before realising there wasn’t a keyhole. He tried the handle, to no avail, then noticed the card reader on the wall.

“I think the lock’s electric,” he gulped. “Wh-What do we-”

Knowing full well a whole squad of backup would be on them at any second, Butch looked around for another option- and found only an open broom closet.

“In here!” he instructed, and the two of them stumbled inside.

Butch quickly found the titular broom, and slid it across the inside handle, barricading them in, if weakly. They took a few seconds to catch their breath, standing shoulder to shoulder in the cramped dark space.

Butch was the one to break the silence.

“Stop me if not, but am I right in thinking we went through all that effort, plus an extra few charges on our rap sheets, just to lock ourselves in an even smaller room, about fifteen feet from where we started?”

James thought about this.

“I’d say that’s about the gist of it, yes.”

“This is the shittiest breakout attempt I’ve ever heard of.”

“Jessie usually handles the execution,” James admitted.

It was all so hopeless, and so ridiculous, that there wasn’t much else to do but to laugh at themselves. The sound bounced back on the walls; in the light coming through the cracks, James could see Butch’s face, so close to his, scared and helplessly amused.

“If it’s any consolation, I don’t think we’ll be housed together again after this,” James pointed out.

Butch grinned.

“Thank god for that.”


End file.
